Harvest Chapter 2
Little Klep
“Over here, Brem!” Trysk called out to her twin brother as she pushed her way through the shoulder-high filkseed grass towards a thick copse of fernweed bushes.
“Just the one?” Brem replied.
“Yes.”
“Any more out here?”
“No.” Trysk shook her head as she stopped in front of a dense weave of interlocking branches.
“Good,” said Brem as he came up beside her, out of breath. “We wouldn’t want any of them to get caught up in the combine.”
“No, we wouldn’t.” Trysk smiled as she knelt down, her right hand outstretched. The late afternoon light from the twin K-type orange suns lit upon her reddish-blonde hair and light olive skin, giving them a faint glow. “Come here, little one.”
Brem stood and watched her, his arms crossed over his chest. “You should have brought some food. We might be awhile. Or I could just work my way in.”
“Shhh. Just give me a minute.” Trysk glanced back over her shoulder at him, then focused her attention on the small creature hiding beneath the branches.
Brem sighed. “Fine. But it’s almost dinnertime.”
Trysk ignored him and spoke in a soothing voice. “Please come out. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
The creature crept forward and sniffed at her wriggling fingers.
“That’s right,” she whispered, slowly drawing her hand back towards her. “And we’ve got dinner for you, too.”
Step by slow step, the small creature crept forward on bifurcated hooves, following her fingers. Its large central eye remained open while the outer two slowly blinked.
“It might bite, you know.”
“It won’t. And don’t try to grab it. You know what happened last time you did that.”
“Fine.” Brem sighed. “But please hurry up, or our sibs will eat everything before we get back to the farmhouse.”
“Just a little more … there you go.” Trysk leaned forward and scooped up the creature into her arms. It was still sniffing at her fingers.
Brem shook his head. “I still have no idea how you do that.”
Trysk stroked the soft fur on the creature’s head. It chittered and curled up in her arms. “They just trust me, that’s all.”
“Well, then you’d better remember to feed it when we get back.”
“Her, not it. And I think I’ll call her Mabel.”
“Whatever.” Brem groaned, then stepped to the side, his arm outstretched. “After you. And you shouldn’t name the Kleps. They’re a food source for the Emperor, that’s all.”
That earned him a glare from Trysk. “Don’t say that in front of her.”
“It’s true. A full-grown Klep masses six to seven hundred kilos, and that’s high value meat on the hoof for export, come Harvest. Just because it’s a pup doesn’t mean its final days will be different than any other.”
“Perhaps not,” said Trysk. “But for today, she’s Mabel, and she’ll sleep in my bed tonight, if she wants to.”
“You won’t want her to do it when she’s full grown. She’d break your bones. Don’t train her to be in your bed.”
“Just tonight.” Trysk ticked the Klep under its bristly chin. “I think you scared her.”
“Whatever.” Brem rolled his eyes. “Now, can we go eat?
~~~
“Did you get the last of them in?” said the weathered middle-aged man at the head of the table. He sported a thick mane of dark red hair, going grey.
Trysk nodded as she dried her hands on a towel by the kitchen door. “Yes, Pa. The last of the Kleps have been rounded up. And with the help of our sibs, we counted the sheep and the cows and put them in their pens this afternoon. It’s safe to start in the morning.”
“Well, good,” said Pa. “Would have made a mess of the crop if had been caught up in the combine. Not to mention the loss of stock in about ten months.”
“Not this time,” said Brem. “Trysk is really good at rounding them up. And the Klep’s already been fed.”
“Come sit down, you two. We saved you a full portion,” said Ma with a smile. Her red hair was lighter than Pa, but then everyone in the family had red hair, too. Genetics, nearly the entire population of Ockham had red hair of one shade or another, ranging from dark auburn to strawberry blonde, with a range of skin tones from pale white to light olive. In some parts of the galaxy, red hair was quite rare, being caused by a recessive human gene. However, on this planet, it had been firmly established as the majority.
Two chairs made a scraping noise on the worn wood floor as Brem and Trysk sat down beside each other, close to their mother. Fourteen other chairs seated their younger siblings, all one year apart, from age three through sixteen. Two high chairs sat on either side of their mother for the one and two-year-olds, and a sling held the baby close so it could suckle at Ma’s breast. Brem was the oldest, if only by a few minutes, though he was half a hand taller than Trysk. While red hair was common, twins definitely were not. Their other siblings had their own year-separated birthdays they didn’t need to share.
Everything else was shared, though, with hand-me-downs just the way of life on the farm. New clothes were a rarity, and they all knew how to sew and mend from an early age, even Brem. It was the same on every farm, all over the continent. Ockham was a farming world, one of several that kept a good portion of the Empire fed and supplied with grain and livestock.
“Let me help you, Ma.” Brem smiled as he picked up a small spoon and scooped up some mashed veggies for the two-year-old next to him. “I’ll feed Spot.”
His mother frowned. “Use his proper name, Brem. Timothy’s going to think that’s his real name, if you keep repeating it enough. And it’s a birthmark, not a spot. Yes, feed him, please. But proper names. No more nicknames.”
Brem bowed his head, chagrined. “Yes, Ma.”
Timothy opened his mouth wide as Brem spooned in some food.
“You should know better, Brem,” said Charlie, their sixteen-year-old sister. She was nearly finished feeding Tabitha, the one-year-old on the far side of their mother. “Names matter.”
Brem shot her a dark look, then smiled at Timothy as he fed him another spoonful.
Trysk made herself busy scooping food onto her plate and Brem’s, giving him a slightly larger portion, as usual. But then, he was bigger.
“It looks like we’ll have a bumper crop of filkseed this year,” said their father as his gaze swept around the table. “Lots of work to do, starting tomorrow. Six and unders have to stay in the house and help your mother.”
“Awww!” said Billy, the six-year-old. “But I wanna help this time!”
“Next year.” Ma smiled. “But I need all the help I can get. I need a big boy like you to help churn.”
Billy’s eyes lit up. “Do I get to have some of the cream?”
“Only what spills.” Ma shook her head.
“Okay,” said Billy. Ma always spilled a little cream. Accidentally-on-purpose into their cups, not onto the floor. And the oldest helper in the kitchen at butter-making time always got a little extra.
“And I’m baking, too. Well, you and your sister will help me.”
“Okay!” Billy’s head nodded vigorously.
“Yes,” said their father. “Lots to do in the kitchen, and the sevens and up need to listen close. Keep clear of the combine, front and sides. Follow at least ten steps behind, to gather the stalks for Klep feed.”
“Yes, Pa,” a chorus of voices replied.
“Good. Trysk will be driving it this year.”
“But—” Brem’s eyebrows rose. “But I’m the oldest.”
“Yes, but I’m a better driver.” Trysk smirked. “We all know that. And you’re only older by fifteen minutes.”
Brem’s freckled face flushed. He knew well enough not to complain. Everyone had a job to do, and everyone would be busy for the next week, at least. And once the crops had been brought in, there would be Celebration parties, all over the continent. He was really looking forward to that, as families gathered to share in their bounty. Brem quite fancied the eldest daughter three farms over. He’d thought his interest had been a secret, until today, when Trysk named the Klep. Because the cute girl he liked was named Mabel, too.
But first, the bringing in of the crops, like they did every year. And perhaps he could steal another kiss or two while the adults were busy at the gathering.
Yes, he was looking forward to that bit, especially.
But then the days of sadness would come, as Harvest began.
~~~
“You’re going to get caught, you know,” Brem whispered. He and Trysk shared a room, separated by sets of threadbare hanging sheets that divided the room in two. Traditionally, the eldest got their own room, with the rest of the children having to share, in twos, threes or fours depending on age. But Brem and Trysk were twins, so … sharing, with visual privacy only. Neither of them wanted to sleep out by the Klep-pens, which was the only other option.
“I won’t,” Trysk whispered back at him. “It will be quiet. I promise.”
There was a soft snuffling sound as the Klep pup snuggled in beside her.
“If it poops the bed, you’re going to have to clean it.”
“Oh, no, she won’t do that. She’ll use your bed for that, if she has to go.”
“Trysk,” Brem growled. “Not funny. Once was enough.”
“Then keep quiet and don’t snore. Mabel doesn’t like snoring.”
Brem tossed around in his bed. “Then Mabel will be really disappointed in you. She might even bite you.”
“Shhh,” said Trysk. “It’s just for tonight, anyway.”
“So you say.”
“Just don’t tell.”
“If she stays in your bed, I won’t.”
“You know why I named her that, right?”
Brem took in a breath. “Because you’re mean.”
“You know you can’t keep secrets from me. Ma said twins have a special connection. You know what I mean, right?”
Brem paused. “Yes, I do.”
“I think she’s cute. The girl, not the Klep. Be nice to her.”
“Of course I will. Don’t tell Ma about Mabel.”
Trysk let out a soft laugh. “I won’t if you won’t.”
“G’night, Trysk.”
“G’night, Brem.”